It Wasn't Supposed to End Like This
by bohufflepuff
Summary: The couple stood in the middle of the sitting room. It had been a lavish room; a room full of comforts. Now it was a scene of destruction, symbolic of their tumultuous relationship.


"You can't leave me. I forbid it."

"_Forbid_ it? Look around you! Look at what you've done! How can you even think of keeping me here like this? I used to trust you. Love you, even. How can I now, knowing what you're capable of? You disgust me. _You_ did this. _You're_ the reason I'm leaving. I hope you understand that."

The couple stood in the middle of the sitting room. It had been a lavish room; a room full of comforts. Now it was a scene of destruction, symbolic of their tumultuous relationship. The two large armchairs were upturned, stuffing oozing from deep gashes in the fabric. The plush, burgundy carpet had dozens of scorch marks, a few of which were still smoking. The shelves of the many bookcases were broken, books spilling onto the floor. The pictures that used to line the mantle had been thrown against the wall, scattering shattered glass throughout the room. The dark wooden walls bore the marks of hastily flung hexes and curses. It was a dismal room now, and no small amount of work could hope to restore its former glory.

The couple in question had fared no better than their possessions.

She stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving in anger. Her hair was wild and untamed, flowing out from her scalp in a halo of fury. Her robes were tattered and singed, and she was bleeding from a gash in her cheek. Her stance was aggressive, her wand trained on the back of the man in front of her.

He was facing away from her, his head leaning on the mantle. His dark robes hid their own singe marks well, but they were ripped in numerous places. Like her, he was bleeding, but his wounds were centered on his chest and back; she aimed to hurt, and she had certainly succeeded. Unlike her, however, his stance was passive. His shoulders were slumped, and he held himself deathly still.

Having said all she needed to, the woman turned and made to leave the room. She made it halfway up the stairs towards the bedroom before she was stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist.

"Don't walk away from me, witch! We are not finished discussing this." His eyes flashed dangerously, and the color on his cheeks emphasized his anger. "You. Will. Not. Leave. Me." With these words, his grip tightened on her wrist, and he climbed the stairs until he towered over her. "You are mine."

Wrenching her wrist free, the woman drew her wand and jabbed him in the throat. "You will never lay a hand on me again, so help me Merlin! I am not your property." For the first time, her reflexes were faster than his, and she bound him with a non-verbal _Petrificus Totalus_. His stiff body slid down the stairs, hitting each step with a dull thud. She slowly followed him, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"I hope you understand how it feels to be hurt by someone you care about. You've certainly hurt me enough in the past few months. How could you even think about visiting that _woman_ after all we've been through!" Her eyes closed, tears oozing from the corners. "I was there after the Final Battle. I stayed with you, healed you, and helped you through your rehabilitation. I cleaned this hovel and turned it into a home. I stayed up with you night after night, helping you work through your nightmares and your guilt. I _loved_ you. But that was never enough, was it?" She paused for a moment, to clear her throat. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing the pain in her voice.

"She will never make you happy, you know. Narcissa may be beautiful, and she must have some _talents_," she spat the word out, leaving him in no doubt as to what she was alluding to. "But she will never suit you. She has nothing to offer you but a cold personality and an extravagant lifestyle you couldn't possibly keep up with. She will never love you and care for you as I did. She could never give you a child, either."

She paused again, looking down into the eyes of the man before her. He still couldn't move, but his eyes were narrowed. In pain? In anger? She couldn't tell, and it didn't really matter to her anyway. She looked down at her left hand, pulled the platinum ring off of her finger, and flung it in his face.

"I won't need this anymore, and you can expect the divorce papers soon. I've already owled the Ministry to sort everything out."

She turned her back on him for the second time that night, and walked up the stairs to their old bedroom, grabbing a few of her things. Glancing around the room for the last time, she returned downstairs, walking past his body, through the demolished sitting room, and toward the front door.

"I'll send the boys to gather the rest of my things tomorrow, and I expect they'll want to bring their Auror friends, so you might want to clean up in here. It's filthy. Oh," she paused again, a look of resignation on her face, "don't bother to look for me after tonight. I'm taking myself as far away from you as possible. Goodbye, Severus," she called, as she walked out the door for the final time.

The man on the floor started violently as soon as the spell was lifted. He picked himself up and flew out the front door, calling out the woman's name. He was too late; she was gone.

He slowly made his way back into the house, stopping to survey the damage in the sitting room. He had been murderously angry at his wife, but he had never meant for things to end up like this. He hadn't meant to attack her, to attack the room that had been their sanctuary these past five years.

He had never meant to hurt her, not really. She wasn't supposed to find out about Narcissa; their fling, while physically satisfying, was more a habit than anything else. Narcissa had been lonely since the death of her husband, but she couldn't even begin to compare to his wife. His loyal, headstrong, passionate wife. Their tempers were both volatile and they had both lost control this night.

He had been in the sitting room, reading the latest Potions journals, when she came home in a foul mood and began to rage at him. She knew about the affair, she said, and she was leaving him. That was enough to rouse his anger, but it came to a head when she informed him of her pregnancy. He couldn't allow her to leave him, not when she was carrying _his_ child! In his fury, he drew his wand and blasted her armchair. After that, she retaliated, each of them acting in a blind rage.

He shuddered at the awful memories and exited the room, only to be stopped short by the light glinting off of her ring. He stooped down and picked it up, cradling the small band in both of his hands.

He whispered her name into the darkened, empty house. "Hermione…"

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><p>AN: This was my first attempt at fanfic, and it was originally posted on Ashwinder. Inspired by the lovely reviews this recieved, I am working on a sequel! I'll probably post on Ashwinder first, so look me up if you're interested- my name over there is also bohufflepuff.

I don't own any of this, in case you were wondering. I am just a loyal worshiper of Queen Rowling. :)


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